Teks 1.docx

Anyways, the mission must be continued. If not, there would be no chicken curry for
dinner.

Suddenly, the rooster headed to Musa's house and climbed the ladder of the front
door. The four friends rushed to the door. The rooster ran away to the kitchen.

It happened when Sarpah was making the kuih karaban. She ladled the kuih
karaban batter into the pan which had already been filled in the steamer.

Out of nowhere, the rooster rushed ahead to Sarpah and hit the steamer and then
fell into the kuih karaban’s mixture.

Sarpah immediately shouted out of surprise. The kitchen was in a mess. Plus, the
noisy sound from the rooster trying to get out of the pan. Finally, Musa caught the
rooster successfully.

“Bunggul ni kanak! Habis tatiharap karaban aku.” Sarpah was scolded in Banjar
dialect which she felt annoyed because his son ruined her karaban. Musa fidgeted then
silenced himself. He hugged the rooster tightly. He knew it so well. If his mother
suddenly speaks in Banjar, that is the sign that she is extremely furious. He is done if he
argues with her.

“Ha, next time you just eat this chicken feet kuih karaban. You must eat what I am
going to cook. If not, you will be punished!

“Really, Mum? Dad really ate chicken feet kuih karaban?” I asked innocently. We
were still laughing even after listening to Mum’s stories about Dad when he was little.

“No, Grandma was just threatening him,” Mum answered while mixing the batter
for the kuih karaban.

“What happened to Dad after that?” Angah asked curiously.

Angah tried to dip his index finger into the batter. Mum slapped his hands away.
His left hand was holding a toy car, which came out of nowhere. Perhaps, he found it
outside the house.

“Did Dad get caned by Grandma, Mum?” De asked next.

“Dad wasn’t caned. Grandma just thought that she wasn’t meant to eat the kuih
karaban. Besides, she was the one who asked Dad to catch the rooster.”

“That’s a relief. Dad was lucky not to be caned. If he did, it would hurt a lot,” said
Angah while acting like he was in pain.

However, his naughty index finger still attempted to dip in the batter again.

“Does it hurt like this?” Mum asked while twisting Angah’s ear.

“Ow, that hurts!” Angah cried out.

“Serve you right! You were asking for it,” I said while laughing.

The kitchen was filled with the laughter of the five of us for quite some time that
afternoon. We then engrossed ourselves again watching Mum finish making the kuih
karaban.

"Mum, is the kuih cooked yet?" Angah asked impatiently.

Mum just smiled at Angah's behaviour.

"It’s about to. Go play first."

Angah went back to play with a small car while mimicking the sound of a racing
car with his mouth. Mum looked at him lovingly. Mum said, Angah is as naughty as Dad
when he was little.

Mum was eight months pregnant with my sixth sibling at that time. As I recall,
she didn’t have any allergies, but she worked hard instead.

I still remember, our felda house had a small hill in the yard. The hill was as high
as an adult's knee. It was flat and rather wide, covering a quarter of the yard area. It
annoyed my mum because it made our yard look smaller.

There was also a tree on the hill. It was shady. Mum called it a stunted tree.
Although it was stunted, its roots grip the ground very firmly. My friends and I liked to
climb its branches.

It wasn’t easy to knock down the tree as well as to flatten the hill. But, Mum could
do it all alone just by using a hoe.

Mum’s strength is so unbelievable. Where did all the energy come from? She
never even complained about pain or body aches. After she’s done with the hill, she'd
continue working in the kitchen. That's her routine every day.

“This hoe is really magical,” I said searching for the hoe that Mum used to flatten
the hill.

At that time, I thought it was the magical hoe that helped Mum. Not to mention,
she was also pregnant. She has such an incredible energy. Besides, she was not someone
who worked half-heartedly. Eventually, the yard managed to be flattened.

The truth is, Mum’s miracle did not lie in the hoe, but in her diligent nature and
strong spirit. As strong as her love for us. The story of Mum flattening the hill remains a
precious memory for us.

KUIH KARABAN
Ingredients:
● 1 cup of rice flour
● ½ of brown sugar
● A coconut (take the milk)
● 4 chicken eggs
● A bit of fennel
● A bit of salt and sugar

Instructions:
1. Fry the fennel without oil and grind until fine.
2. Cook the coconut milk with brown sugar until the oil appears. If you want to

sweeten it, put in a bit of sugar. After it is cooked, turn off the stove and let it rest.
3. Add the eggs and a bit of salt into the rice flour and stir well.
4. Add the mixture of coconut milk and brown sugar into the batter. Strain/sieve the

batter into the pan or container.
5. Sprinkle grinded fennel evenly on the batter.
6. Add batter into the heated steamer.
7. When the kuih is cooked, let it cool down and cut. Sprinkle a bit of fennel powder

before serving.

Note: The aromatic of the fennel in the kuih karaban makes this kuih very special and
tasty to eat at any time. Good luck.

Who Is Mak Yah’s Model?

Noor Waahidah Abas

“MUM, is it true that eating chilli will make us grow faster? Asked Abang, my 10 years
old son while his hand was ladling fried rice in front of him.

“Hmm...” I stare directly at Abang's face while watching his behaviour. My mind
reminisced my childhood memories.

“Mum, do we just eat too much?” I questioned my mum when we had lunch.

That day, Mum cooked rice porridge, just rice boiled with water. Before eating it/
When you want to eat it, mix with a bit of sugar to make it taste better. This was the first
time Mum cooked this recipe.

“Be thankful Long, at least we have food to eat today. There are people who eat
this every day,” said Mum.

“Really?” asked myself as if I do not believe it.

“You go to Ani’s house now!” Mum suddenly scolded while pointing her finger to
Ani’s house.

Ani’s house is next to our house near the road. A small house built with half
cement/bricks and woods which had only a single room and settled by a family of six.

“Ask her what she ate for today,” said Mum angrily.

I sat up quickly and got out of the house. In a rush, I wore a pair of slippers and
ran towards Ani's house.

“Ani… Ani…” I shouted from her kitchen’s window. I jumped to climb the
window. My arms clung onto the window and my legs struggled against the wall of Ani’s
house.

“Why?” asked Ani cheerfully when she saw me at her kitchen’s window.

“What do you eat for today?”

“Rice porridge,” she said while smiling.

“Side dish?” I asked again.

“There is no side dish.”

Mum is right. It can be said that Ani and her family eat rice porridge every day.

“You’re late for Zuhur prayer, you’re also late for Asar prayer, what’s getting into
you?” Mum scolded me while arms akimbo.

My heart was beating so fast. I lowered my head with guilt. Mum was a very stern
woman. She made a schedule for me and my siblings. After Zuhur prayer, we’re
supposed to read the Al-Quran, sleep, perform Asar prayer, tidy up the house and after
that we can go play with our friends.

The schedule was displayed in the middle of the living room.

If there is anyone who did not follow the schedule, then get ready to be cane!

Our journey for the whole day was organised and punctual. Dad bought us
waterproof wrist watches for each person. Throughout the day, we wore the watch. We
took it off only at night before we went to sleep.

“Today I'm going to cook fried rice. Hurry, tidy up the house,” said Mum.

“It’s so delicious.” Said Amat, my third younger brother.

Angah and I glanced at each other. There were sparkles in our eyes. We tidied up
the house with enthusiasm. Our stomach started to grumble because yesterday we only
ate quite a bit of porridge.

Mak Yah’s fried rice will be the main menu in Ramadan during/for sahur. Eaten
while it is still hot, with dried fish and anchovies paste. Yummy!

“Hey… save some for me too,” shouted Amat who was still feeling confused
because of shock after waking up from sleep to eat sahur. Because he woke up late, of
course he felt anxious if Mak Yah’s fried rice would run out.

“So salty,” I said.

“Just eat it,” said Dad slowly.

“Whatever your mum cooks, don’t complain. Just eat. Plus, it’s not easy to cook.”
Dad advised.

“It’s not good to talk about something bad in front of food,” Dad added.

“Is it salty?” asked Mum who just started to eat.

“Did the salt truck just spill over Mak Yah?” My dad is joking with Mum.

Mum smiled. Dad really knows how to tackle her. My siblings and I chuckled.

“Mum, can you cook this fried rice again?” Said Angah while standing up, bringing
her plate to the sink.

“Don’t you get tired of eating fried rice every day?” asked Mum.

“No,” said Itah, my fourth younger sister while sipping hot Milo.

“It's delicious, Nasi Goreng Mak Yah is very yummy!” said Aman, the youngest
sibling while holding the plate up. Mum smiled.

“While eating, don’t keep drinking water, long,” advised Mum.

“Do you want a bloated stomach?” she said again.

I shook my head.

“Take care of your body, we are women.”

Both of my sisters already grinned, excited seeing me being imposed by Mum.
Slowly, I put the cup down.

The dinner table was the witness of me being advised by Mum and Dad. This is
also the place where our family laughed together while eating.

Mum really loves to cook. She is very efficient in the kitchen and loves to try new
recipes. Plus, she is a very fast cook, and can finish in a blink. If we go back to Tok’s
house or Wan’s house in our hometown, Mum will be the main chef.

Mum had opened a stall and a restaurant. Because of her friendliness, her
customers were among the Malays, Chinese and Indians. While packing Nasi Lemak,
Mum will chat hello to them. She got so much to talk with her customers.

Mum loves it if our house is noisy. While she is cooking, she will be chatting.
Sometimes, she expresses her feelings from her heart. That is the best place for us.

If we talked about something interesting, she will stir the dish artistically while
smelling the food. Her eyes closed.

“Does this spice also need to be put in? I asked.

“Yeah… just throw it in.”

I started scratching my head.

“You already put in various spices, Mum,” I said.

“If you don’t want it then, it’s okay,” answered Mum spontaneously.

“But what’s crucial is to recite prayer when you start to cook. Wash the rice and
keep prayers for Muhammad SAW. While cooking, recite zikir. While waiting for the
dishes to boil, wash all the plates in the sink, arrange all the utensils that have been
used.” Advised Mum at some length. That is why Mum’s cooking was so alluring,
Masya-Allah.

“Mum, how to cook this fried rice?” I asked while feeding Eusuf, my son.

“When you sauté the garlic, make sure it is a little bit burnt, so then it will taste
good,” said Mum while her thumb and her index finger got close to one another. Her eyes
shrinked, frowning her face to give the exaggeration of a little burnt as she said earlier.

“Oh, so that is the tip,” I said while smiling.

“Mum, Mum, is it true what Mak Tok said?” asked Abang one more time, stopping
my imagination.

“Yes, only adults can withstand spicy food,” I answered and smiled with full
meaning.

Mum also took a sewing reservation. She learnt at a tailor shop which belongs to
a Chinese woman. Mum helps Dad cover family expenses.

“Every month you always get a new reservation,” greet my roommate.

“My mum is a tailor, remember?” I said while going through the clothes that my
mum and dad sent while visiting me at the hostel.

Mum is diligent to make new clothes with the newest fashion. I am the one who
always models for fashion designer Mak Yah. Until I am getting married, my wedding
dress and songket dress are sewed by my mum.

There are also my friends who ask my mum to sew their wedding dress after they
see my beautiful and comply with Syariah wedding dress. Loose, long and covering the
aurat, that is the philosophy in Mum’s fashion world.

MAK YAH’S FRIED RICE
Ingredients:
● 2 cups of rice
● 2 eggs
● 4 cloves of garlic
● 4 shallots
● 5 small chilies
● 2 spoons of oil

Instructions:
1. Shallots and garlic chopped. Chillies sliced thin.
2. Heat the oil. Add shallots, garlic and fry until fragrant. Add chilli and stir well.
3. Taste with salt. Then, add eggs.
4. Finally, add rice and mix well. Ready to serve.

Banana Ghost

Faudiah Ramli

OUTSIDE the window, a grey Wira Proton stopped in front of my in-law’s house. Just got
out of the car, my eldest child, a 7 years old daughter ran towards me.

While smiling, she gave me a bag containing fried mee. I took it and served it as
snacks for teatime for our family.

I gave fried mee to my daughter, but she does not want to eat it. She said that she
already ate, plus she ate at the restaurant just now.

“Mum, can you make the bread that Kakak ate just now?” My daughter, Farah
pulls my hand softly to make a sign for me so that I will agree.

“What do Kakak eat with Dad there?” I glared sweetly. My daughter silenced for a
moment while recalling the name of the bread that she ate.

“Banana bread at mamak, she loved to eat it,” Interrupted my husband.

Oh, banana bread. Remembering my childhood, I always ate my late grandma’s
banana murtabak. It can be said that it was my siblings and my favourite until we were
called ‘Banana Ghost’.

Ticked in this heart to taste the banana martabak again but throughout these
years I have been married, never once I saw banana martabak being sold anywhere
aside from banana bread from mamak stall. Looked almost the same but the taste was
different. Family made recipe of course suits me more.

After that, I tried to make banana murtabak a couple of times, but the taste did
not taste like the one that I ate a long time ago. It is like I missed something.

School holiday is here, I went back home to Muadzam Shah, Pahang. With full
enthusiasm, I asked mum to teach me how to cook banana martabak. My mum smiled
generously, sarcastically.

“So, now you want to learn how to make it, ‘banana ghost’?” said Mum.

Her soft face acted like she wanted to signal her sarcasm to me. Ouch, I was
imposed this time, to serve myself. Before this, many times my late grandma advised me
to learn how to cook but I just do not care about it.

However, I am at ease with Mum’s reaction. I think that is the first time she is
joking without taking too much time. Well, Mum is very gentle, polite, friendly, very
hardworking and always guards her speech.

However, my fate was only with her after I was 24 years old. Before this I lived
with my late grandma in Selangor and only met her once or twice a year. “Are the
ingredients already prepared or not?” asked Mum.

“Yes,” I answered shortly.

I kneaded the dough mixture continuously until it was well done. Mum poked the
dough with her finger.

“It's still hard. Add some water a bit more. If not, it will be hard to stretch the
dough. It will easily tear.” Plus Mum.

I added a little bit of water to the dough until it became a little sticky. I continued

kneading until the dough becomes elastic and smooth by using only my right hand. Mum
did not give permission to use both of my hands because it is not good, she said.

Meanwhile, Mum helps me to make the filling for martabak. Banana sliced thinly,
mixed with a pinch of salt, sugar and an egg. Then mixed well.

“Why must I put the egg, Mum?” Is it going to make the filling smelly?” I asked.

“No, if you want to make it tastier, you must cook the filling in the first place but if
you don’t want to, then it is okay. It's already delicious anyway,” explained Mum softly.

Her hands are very efficient in doing housework. Although her face showed
wrinkles, her kitchen’s skills are hard to beat.

“Why must this dough soak in the oil but not coat with the margarine? I saw
people making flatbread and they only put margarine,” I asked.

“You can put in margarine, but your late grandma taught me this. I just followed
her recipe. Also, why does the dough need to let it rest until 5 to 6 hours before it can be
cooked?” Mum tried to test me.

“So the dough does not tough to stretch it and does not easily tear.” Mum smiled towards
my answer. That is the only tip that I remembered from my late grandma.

This recipe is Mum’s legacy which was passed down from my late grandma who
was a Banjar’s descendant, the minority ethnic in Selangor. It is quite easy to make. My
children and my in-law’s family love it so much.

There was a time where almost every day I cooked this recipe. My mother-in-law
is the one who loved this martabak so much. She used to make flatbread but never
cooked this banana’s martabak.

There was a time when my mother-in-law made the filling with the big cutting
bananas. She thought that the bananas could be in whatever sizes as long as they were
cut.

Actually, thin slices of bananas are finer so the dough’s filling is smooth and not
easy to tear. I was moved when I saw my mother-in-law smile, realising her mistake.

After that scene, my relationship with her got closer. Every time we go back to
our hometown, banana’s martabak will be our favourite menu.

However, there were a lot of recipes shared with me but I did not appreciate the
chance given. Back then, cooking was not my deepest passion, but I needed to learn it for
the sake of my family.

My mother advised;

“Tie up your husband's stomach with your cooking, so he recognized your hand
made. Wherever he goes, your hand made cooking is always the one he loves. That is
also the marriage secret of happiness.”

Back then, I thought that this tip was only a sweet talk, but when I thought about
it again, it is the truth.

Throughout my almost 20 years of marriage, my husband and children really love
my cooking. Just cook anything, as long as they eat at home.

Indeed, handmade cooking can strengthen the bonding between family members.
Mum’s advice to me will be buried inside my deepest heart. Hopefully this story is
beneficial for all.

BANANA MARTABAK
Ingredients:
● 5-7 cavendish banana or pisang lemak manis
● ½ kg wheat flour
● 4 or 5 spoons of granulated sugar
● 1 tsp of salt
● An egg
● 1 cup of water (depends)
● Cooking oil (depends)

Instructions:
1. Wheat flour mixed with dissolved salt until it is shaped as a soft and smooth dough.
2. Knead the dough for 5 -10 minutes. Sized the dough as a tennis ball size.
3. Then, add the dough inside the container that contains cooking oil so prevent the

dough from sticking to the container.
4. Make sure the dough sinks in the oil to prevent the dough from becoming dry. Rest

the dough for 5 -6 hours.
5. Slice thin the bananas and add in the bowl. Add sugar and egg and mix well.
6. After resting the dough, stretch the dough to make a flatbread. If you do not know

how to do it, stretch the dough at the back of the tray. Underlay with paper so the
dough can be picked from the tray easily. Make sure the dough does not tear.
7. Then, put in the filling equally in the middle of the stretch dough. Close the filling by
folding the dough by making it square like flatbread.
8. Heat the pan and add some cooking oil. Fry like frying the flatbread with medium
heat.
9. Flip both sides of the martabak until it turns golden yellow. When finished, then
ready to serve,

My Heart Was Yet Touched Again

Solehah Alwi

IN 2019, it went viral on Facebook about the ‘Aiskrim Malaysia’ that comes with a variety
of flavours and colours that catch the interests of both children and adults. Aiskrim
Malaysia, nobody was a stranger to its taste.

Time has changed, including the flavours of Aiskrim Malaysia. Looking at the
flavours of the Aiskrim Malaysia that went viral on social media reminded me of my
mum in the village. All of these flavours were not the same as the ones made by Mum.
Yes, coconut milk with brown sugar flavour. The whole village loved Mum’s ice cream
recipe.

In 1982, when I was ten years old, in Year 4, Mum started to sell coconut milk with
brown sugar ice cream to help my late dad with the daily and schooling expenses for all
of my seven siblings.

The fridge bought by Dad from the Singer shop with a monthly instalment had
made Mum more diligent in selling the ice creams to cover the monthly payment for our
fridge. All praises to Allah. Thanks to the hard work of Mum and the seven of us, we
managed to complete the payment for the fridge every month until the income from the
coconut milk with brown sugar sales finished.

It is true, as Mum always said, doing business is a noble job. Everyone who is in
business must always be honest and responsible to have blessed and clean earnings. It
doesn’t matter if the profit is small, as long as it is a blessing for our family. That is the
most important thing. Mum also said that determination and patience are the keys to
success for a businessman.

The Prophet Muhammad himself was a businessman. He was helping his uncle
trading from the city of Mecca to the country of Sham. Mum’s story had boosted our
morale and motivation.

"Don’t be embarrassed for selling ice creams. Be more ashamed if we were
begging from others because Allah dislikes that trait. As long as we work hard, there will
be a reward for us," Mum said in a firm tone.

Every word of Mum's kept playing in my head. The word ‘give up’ was not in her
vocabulary.

"Go to sleep everyone. You have school tomorrow," Mum said to all five of us,
Abang Ali, Abang Mukhtar, late Abang Abadi who was my twin, and our little sister,
Diana who was eight at that time. The other two of Mum’s children who were Kakak
Inah and Abang Udin were living in the boarding school at that time.

Mum switched off the lights so the kids would be fast asleep and easy to be woken
up for morning prayer and school tomorrow. When all the kids were in bed, Mum went
to the kitchen and performed her daily routine such as grating coconuts, squeezing the
coconut milk, and cooking the brown sugar. All of those chores would be done by Mum
in the night and she would fill in the ice creams in the plastics after tahajjud or Subuh
prayer.

"Why are you awake? It’s not dawn yet."

Mum said while pouring the ice cream mixture into the plastic after seeing me
standing in front of her.

"I need to pee," I answered.

Mum just continued her work in silence and let me pass. After I went to the toilet,
I sat in front of Mum while watching her finish her work.

Sometimes, Mum asked me to help her cut the tip of the plastics that had been
tied so they would not take up space when arranged later since our fridge is quite small.

"Ali, pick out the frozen ice and put it in the thermos. Don’t forget to count them,
alright?"

Mum’s instructions were given to Abang Ali before it was five in the afternoon. He
then immediately ran to the fridge to perform his daily routine without saying anything.
Then, Abang Mukhtar and Abang Abadi lifted the thermos to the pavement while
waiting for Abang Ali to get ready. As usual, they would go to the sepak takraw court in
front of the community hall in our village, Kampung Titingan, Tawau.

Abang Ali was the best takraw player in our village. While he was playing, Abang
Mukhtar would sit at the courtside while selling ice creams to the audience and
passersby. There’s no doubt that all of the sepak takraw players were our regular
customers.

Late Abang Abadi was assigned to bring more ice creams from home if they were
about to run out so that the customers won’t flee to the apek’s shop in front of the police
station which was located not far away from the community hall. Meanwhile, my sister,
Diana, and I would patiently wait in front of the house, searching for the signs of Abang
Abadi.

"How many ice creams are left? How many more do you need, Abang?" my voice
went a few pitches higher in excitement as I watched my brother running breathlessly at
the end of the bridge leading to the house.

"There’s five left. We need twenty more."

I ran to the fridge while my sister, Diana opened up the plastic bag she held to
make it easier for me to put the ice creams in. That was our daily routine every
afternoon.

The best part was counting all the coins we earned. After Maghrib prayer, we
would put the 50 cents and 20 cents in a rectangular coin box while the ten cents and
the five cents in a ‘bald’ coin box. We called it ‘bald’ coin box because the coin box was
shaped like a bald doll surrounded by little dolls who were also bald.

The most awaited moment came when it was almost Aidilfitri or the year-end
before school started. We would sit together with Mum and Dad to open the coin box.
Each of us chose our own coins to be counted. I liked to count the 50 cents the most
because of the big value.

The savings from the ice creams’ sales were used by Mum to buy her daughters a
gold necklace each. Only Allah knew how exciting it was to wear a gold necklace carved
with your own name. Mum is a smart person and always thinks forward. The gold
became an investment and saving for the future.

The ice cream sales also covered Abang Udin's tuition at Al-Azhar University and
Kakak Inah's boarding school tuition, as well as our daily school expenses. My tears
unconsciously fell when this nostalgia played in my mind.

Al-Fatihah for Dad and Abang Abadi. The spirit of teamwork, diligence, patience,
honesty, and bravery that Mum taught us were extremely precious to us. Mum was a
source of inspiration. Someone who was always thinking for the future and filled with
plans for everything she did.

Never lose to Allah’s fate. Mum had never complained in front of us and always
saw the best in the hardships we faced.

"Allah had guaranteed every sustenance for His servant, don’t think about the
difficulties but think about how to get out of it. There must be a way provided by Allah"
another Mum’s words that I would never forget.

COCONUT MILK WITH PALM SUGAR ICE CREAM
Ingredients:
● 1 cup of thick coconut milk
● 1 cup of brown sugar/palm sugar
● 1 cup of granulated sugar
● 5 cups of plain water
● 2 tsps of tapioca starch
● 10 pieces of ice cream plastics

Instructions:
1. Heat up one cup of brown sugar and one cup of water in the pot until the brown

sugar boils. Strain after the heat is turned off.
2. Heat up a cup of thick coconut milk and four cups of water in another pot. Stir to

prevent curdling. Turn off the heat once it boils.
3. Pour the brown sugar liquid into the coconut milk and stir over low heat.
4. Pour one cup of sugar and continue stirring. Turn off heat once it boils.
5. Mix tapioca starch with a bit of water and pour it into the coconut milk with brown

sugar mixture. Let it cool.
6. Fill the mixture into the ice cream plastics and tie it up. Freeze them in the fridge.

Notes: The tapioca starch is used to make the ice creams stay sweet while eaten. The
soft, fluffy taste, like sweet snow, will melt in your mouth.

Mum Cooked the Fish, Minachi Got the
Name

Normala Mohd Supian @ Normasufi

IT was rare for us to have a feast. If we want to eat delicious food, we have to wait for
Dad to send money home to buy fish and other necessities. Dad was a territorial army
and hardly ever home. Every day, we would just eat rice and fried shrimp paste with
onion. But, we were happy because we could still have rice.

Mum always said, "We have to be grateful because we could still eat rice although
we don’t have delicious dishes. Other people only get to eat boiled tapioca.”

We lived in Kampung Selabak which was then famous as a pineapple producer in
Teluk Intan. My sisters and brothers always talked about how Dad’s job was shooting
communists.

At that time, as the youngest, I was only listening to their stories. There were only
seven of us then. Mum worked as a labourer at the oil palm plantation at the edge of our
village.

We grew up poor. As the saying goes, we were living from hand to mouth.

Every morning, before Mum went to work, we had to wake up as early as six in
the morning. Mum would make plain fried rice or rice with salted fish to bring to work
and for our breakfast. My eldest and second sisters were already working in Ipoh at that
time.

“Zarah...Lina...wake up and get the others ready for school, alright? I’m going to
work now.” Mum left the task of taking care of our siblings to my two sisters who were
in Form 1 and Form 3 then.

“Kamal! Haris! Wake up, shower and pray before going to school,” shouted Mum
again.

While stretching, two of my brothers who were in Year 3 and Year 6 woke up
quickly. They always race to the edge of the pool for shower.

I was the last to wake up because I was the last to go to school since I was going
to kindergarten for six years olds. Meanwhile, Kak Zarah served breakfast and Kak Lina
made tea for us before we went to school with the bicycles.

“Hurry! Wake up, Adik Noni, you’ll be late for school.” Kak Zarah needed to get me
ready for school. Kak Zarah had school in the afternoon. She was the one who sent and
picked me up from kindergarten before going to her school in the town, Teluk Intan.

“Assalamualaikum Embah, here is Noni.” Kak Zarah called my grandmother. I was
left at Embah’s house while waiting for my mum to come home from the plantation at
two in the afternoon. Embah was a title for grandfather and grandmother in Javanese.

On weekends, usually Mum was not working, so we could eat something more
delicious. Mum would cook our favourite dish, Minachi-style Skipjack Tuna. Originally, it
was skipjack tuna fried with sambal, but we were out of salt at that time.

So, Mum used soy sauce for the saltiness, and it became black like the minachi at
the plantation. Mum was very creative for the sake of her little children’s tummies.
Although it was black, it still tasted good to us. It was not often for us to have sea fish
like skipjack tuna.

On the weekend, after Mum came back from the market selling pineapples and
shopped for groceries, usually Kak Zarah would help Mum cook in the kitchen.

“Zarah, clean the fish, I want to fry it first,” Mum said to Kak Zarah while peeling
the onions.

Kak Zarah immediately did what was told by Mum without questions. Kak Lina
was pounding the dried chillies that were boiled. My brothers were instructed to gather
firewoods because our house only had a firewood kitchen. It was their routine during
school holidays to gather firewoods while fishing in the pineapple farm at the back of
the house.

That afternoon after gathering firewood, Abang Aris went ahead into the house
to eat without waiting for Abang Kamal to eat together. We were all done eating, they
were the ones who came back late from the farm.

“Mum, Aris already ate all the minachi fish. What do I eat?” Abang Kamal whined
to Mum while crying. Abang Aris was nonchalant without feeling guilty for eating the
fish.

Mum who was weaving mat immediately scolded Abang Aris.

“I’ve told you only one piece each. Don’t take more. Don’t you understand?”

Abang Kamal who was annoyed with Abang Aris who kept mocking him suddenly
got up and chased him around.

“What a shame you can’t eat the fish, you crybaby!” Abang Aris mocked Abang
Kamal while pouting his mouth. Abang Aris was really naughty, he always teases me and
my siblings.

“Mum...you were the one who cooked but why is minachi’s the one who got the
name?” Abang Aris asked while laughing and running, teasing Abang Kamal. Abang Aris
kept running and climbed a rambutan tree. The tall rambutan tree made Abang Kamal
unable to chase him anymore.

Suddenly, there was a sound like something had fallen.

“Prakkk...prakk...buk! Mum, Aris fell off the tree!” Abang Kamal shouted, calling
for Mum. We were running from inside the house to see Abang Aris.

“That’s what you get for mocking others,” Mum nagged at Abang Aris.

“Ouch Mum, my hand hurts so bad,” Abang Aris groaned. He kept crying when
Mum held him. Without any delay, Mum took the bicycle and paddled at full speed to
send Abang Aris to the nearest clinic.

It turned out that Abang Aris’ arm was broken. Ever since then, he rarely looked
for trouble with us anymore. That was the tragedy at the rambutan tree when Abang
Kamal didn’t get to eat Minachi fish dish.

Mum was truly strong for taking care of us without Dad by her side. Although it
was hard, Mum never complained. A lot of jobs were done by Mum. After she worked at
the plantation, she continued weaving mats at home.

On the weekend, Mum looked for pineapples to be sold at the town Teluk Intan.
During rambutan season, all of us would help Mum collect and sell the rambutans. Mum
was hardworking and very rarely got mad at us.

“Don’t fight between your siblings, you have to take care of each other.”

The overwhelming feeling of missing Mum reminded me of her advice.

“Remember, the bonds between siblings will not be easily broken. The same goes
for the responsibility of the parents, it would not end even after death.”

MINACHI-STYLE SKIPJACK TUNA
Ingredients:
● 1 medium-sized skipjack tuna (ikan kayu)
● 200 gram blended dried chillies
● 1 packet of spices
● 6 cloves of garlic (minced)
● 1 onion (thinly sliced)
● 1 inch of ginger (minced)
● ½ cup of Jalen sweet soy sauce
● 2 tbsps of sugar
● ½ cup of tamarind water (add 1-2 cups of water if you want more gravy)
● Oil as needed

Instructions:
1. Fry the fish. Do not overcook it because it will become too hard.
2. Use the same oil to fry the spices which are cinnamon sticks, star anises,

cardamoms, and cloves.
3. Add garlic and ginger. After it dries up, add the blended dried chillies.
4. After the chillies are cooked, pour in the tamarind water and sugar with seasonings

accordingly.
5. Add soy sauce and skipjack tuna with some water to make the gravy.
6. Before turning off the heat, add onion and stir.

Two Lovers, Two Worlds

Tiny Azleen Yahaya

“MUM, I want to write a new anthology book. I want to put in your recipe. Can you cook
it tomorrow? I want to take pictures of your cooking.”

“What do you want me to cook?”

“Your ‘the best in the world’ fish head gulai, of course.” I quipped. As soon as the
phrase ‘the best in the world’ came out from my mouth, a sad feeling welled up in my
heart.

Slowly I looked at Mum who went into her room near the kitchen. I got a feeling
why. I ran straight up to my room.

I knew the tears would fall. So I let it flow down to my cheeks.

‘The best in the world’ was the phrase used by my late Dad to praise Mum’s
cooking, especially the ones he liked.

Mum’s fish gulai was unmatchable by anyone because of its unique flavour.
Whether it’s me or my sister, none of us could ever cook it the same as the flavour Mum’s
created. A thousand tries with the same recipe, yet as people say, indeed the original is
the best.

My sister and I could never match up to Mum’s cooking. Could never!

The next morning, I saw the heads of snappers, red snappers, pomfrets, and chub
mackerels already inside the sink, currently defrosting.

“Yay, you’re cooking mixed fish gulai,” I squealed, looking at the ingredients
prepared in the kitchen.

If she’s cooking fish gulai, Mum likes to use a variety of fish including the fish head
gulai. According to Mum, the sweetness is different if you use a variety of fish. It’s more
delicious.

It’s eleven in the morning. Usually, Mum’s already in the kitchen but this time I saw
Mum was still sitting on the chair wearing her prayer clothing. I thought Mum’s
performed her sunrise prayer around ten in the morning just now. Weird.

“Mum, do you need me to prepare anything?” I diligently asked while cleaning the
defrosted fishes.

“I feel like I have a toothache. I'm too tired to cook. Why don’t you put them back?
I’ll do it later,” Mum said from inside the room without looking at me, who was standing
in front of her room’s door.

Hmm...I knew it, there's an unpleasant feeling visiting. Longing. Yes, the emotion
that cannot be stopped, further yet to be controlled, its presence.

I knew the feelings so well. As hard it was for me, the daughter who lived for 43
years with Dad, to forget all the memories and the longing, it was harder for Mum who
had been with him for 47 years, longer than the amount of time she lived with her
parents.

Mum married Dad when she was 19. Death tore them apart when she was 66. How
could she forget Dad in such a short time.

Slowly, I kept back all the fish except for the chub mackerels. I took four of them
and smeared them with salt and turmeric. The deft hands took out the aubergine and
cut it obliquely.

I put together some soy sauce, salt, and sugar with the aubergine and marinated
them. Then, I took one onion and ten small onions to be peeled and sliced.

I fried the small onions and put them aside. Then I fried the aubergine and served
them on a plate. I sprinkled the fried onions, one dish down.

Then, I fried the fish. Put them aside. I stir-fried some lemongrass and put the
onion in. Next, I put chilli paste and stir until the oil separated. I put in sugar and salt.

When the chilli dried up a little, I put in the fried fish. All praise to God, two dishes
done to replace the unattainable fish head gulai.

Once the table was ready, Mum came out of the room.

“You already cooked? These two dishes are enough. When the kids want to eat, fry
some eggs for them.” Mum said, referring to my little kids who surely would not eat the
spicy dish and the aubergine.

I didn't ask Mum anything. I kept the questions in my heart, locked, and never
slipped through my tongue.

During tea time, Mum sat together with us at the dining table and started to tell
stories when we were still young where she and Dad sent me and my sister to the
hometown because they wanted us to have a better education in the peninsula.

“Back then, when we lived in Labuan, Sabah, I had to send you guys back to
Penang. I won’t cook your favourite dish. I knew you guys liked to eat chicken in soy
sauce, I won’t cook it. If Dad was asking for it, I would’ve avoided it.”

Suddenly, Mum stopped talking. I guessed the excuse about the toothache was just
Mum’s way to escape from cooking Dad’s favourite dish. Every time he ate Mum’s fish
head gulai, he would say.” This is the most delicious gulai, ‘the best in the world’.”

And every time Mum would smile bashfully although there were times when she
refuted Dad’s joke.

But really, Dad was not joking. It’s a sincere praise, straight from the heart. Dad’s
action clearly showed it. If there was a mixed fish gulai, his appetite was no joke. He
could finish off up to three plates of rice.

That was the thing that made Mum happy. Praises and Dad’s gusto in savouring the
dish she had served were able to ease off all her weariness from working in the kitchen.
It’s worth it.

Indeed, cooking was not just a menu served on the table. It was a memory and love
which could be expressed in words. It was delivered through the hands where there
flowed the endless love and care although the bodies were separated in two different
worlds.

Each of Mum’s dishes made me realise that through cooking, we were not simply
serving the food to fill the stomachs but also creating memories and remembrances
between two lovers until the end of their lives.

FRIED AUBERGINES WITH SPRINKLED ONIONS
Ingredients:
● 2 aubergines (cut obliquely)
● 4 tbsps of sweet soy sauce (Cap Kipas Udang)
● 2 tbsps of sugar
● 1 tsp of salt
● 10 onions (sliced thinly)
● 2 cups of cooking oil for frying

Instructions:
1. Marinate the aubergines with soy sauce, sugar, and salt.
2. Heat the oil and put the sliced onions in. Fry until it turns brown and set aside.
3. Using the same oil, fry the marinated aubergines. Fry until the aubergines become

yellowish black.
4. Arrange the aubergines on a plate. Sprinkle the fried onion on top of the aubergines.

Ready to serve.

FISH WITH TERUTUP CAMPAK-CAMPAK
Ingredients:
● 4 Indian Mackerel
● A lemongrass
● 1 large onion (sliced lengthwise)
● 6 tbsps of ground chilli
● Turmeric, salt and sugar
● 2 cups of oil (for frying)

Instructions:
1. Smear the fish with salt and turmeric.
2. Heat the oil in the pan. Put the fish in and fry until slightly crispy. Take it out and set

aside.
3. Using the same oil, saute lemongrass until the smell rises.
4. Add onion, fry until slightly wilted.
5. Add six tablespoons of ground chilli, depending on the level of spiciness you want.

Stir until the oil breaks down.
6. Add salt and sugar to balance the flavours.
7. Stir until the chillies look slightly crispy and add the fried fish.
8. Stir the fish with sambal and ready to serve.

Si Puspawangi

Eda Farhana

RAMADAN is coming soon, at the end of this month. Ramadan reminded me of my late
mother. Apart from the people closest to me, I'm sure my sisters and brothers must also
have fond memories of our mother while she was still here.

My mother was the resource person for her children in every matter including
cooking. If not her, then it’s Busu, my youngest brother who is very good at cooking.

“Honey, you look pensive. What were you thinking about?” My husband
whispered.

“Oh, dear! You surprised me.”

“Ramadan will come soon. Suddenly, I was reminded of my late mother and late
Kak Mah. I really miss them.”

“Come on, honey. Maghrib is almost here. Don't get too carried away by your feelings.
Get ready, let’s perform Maghrib prayer together.”

"Alright, dear."

I was also interested in cooking. It's just that sometimes I forgot the recipe or how to
cook it. So, I quickly dialled my mother's phone number in the village.

"Hello, assalamualaikum."

"Hello, waalaikumussalam." From afar faintly heard mother's voice at the end of
the line.

“Mum, it's me, Induk. How are you?”

"Alhamdulillah. I’m all fine, darling."

“Just calling to say hello to you. Meanwhile, I think I want to eat pickled spices.
What is the recipe, Mum?” Once again, I referred my mother to get the recipe.

“You lucky girl, too much nonsense. Just a moment ago, Kak Mah also called and
asked for the recipe as well.” my mother laughed from the end of the line.

Reminiscing my mother's scolding made me smile by myself. Sometimes, I really
miss all that nagging. It's alright, even though my mother was gone, I always felt as if she
was always by my side. Sometimes when I think of her, I cook my favourite dishes that
she used to make before. When her children gathered on the weekends or at the end of
the month, she was the happiest, and the busiest person.

On that weekend, my mother's yard was full with cars, lively with the
grandchildren. Coincidentally, the school holidays have just begun and we will be
celebrating Ramadan as well. As we gathered, she suddenly voiced her heart's desire.

"I just thought of making a feast to celebrate Ramadan." Her wishes were
welcomed by Abah and others.

“Alright, tomorrow morning, I will climb up the coconut tree at the shore. Many of
them seemed to be old coconuts. We will cook traditional menus, ”said Abah.

"Later, Atam and Andak will help me pull out the lemongrass at the back of the
house."

"It's okay, Mum. Ateh, Achik and Uda can help you slice all the leaves."

"Our children really like to eat curry with tempoyak daun kayu. At the feast, this
dish was also popular. The villagers will be happy to eat them later.”

Mother always remind her children;

"If we cooked, cooked with sincerity and love. If we have many children, we cook
the best dish. If we want to treat people, we make food that people like.”

It was one of my mother's advice that I remembered until now. Because of her
gesture, she was liked and loved by others. Mother also often teached the meaning of
cooperation, helping each other and cultivating love between us.

When a mother and her children were cooking their chosen dishes, they all
joined forces. Some were climbers, some were pullers/extractors, some were cutters
and the fun part was, I was a taster. Then, we all gathered to watch Mother cook.

Alhamdulillah, the Ramadan feast went smoothly. We all scrambled and ate a lot
of the food. Many villagers were also present.

Beside feasting and eating at home, Mother also provided the goulash to be taken
home by each guest. She was not stingy and diligent in giving alms.

Once the guests returned home, everyone took a place and spot to rest. Suddenly,
Ehsan complained. All anxious. We rushed towards Ehsan.

"What’s wrong Ehsan?" Mother asked.

"My stomach hurts, Uwan," Ehsan replied.
“It must be because everyone was eating too much. Wanie, go get a spoon in the
kitchen," asked Mother.

“Okay, Mum.” Said Wanie.
"Uwan, what do you want to do with the spoon?" All the grandchildren
wondered.
"Haa… this was our elders' advice." Mother answered.
"If our stomach hurts because it was too full, use this spoon and rub it on the
stomach. Then, tap the spoon on the floor or wall," Mother explained.

"Why do we need to do that, Uwan?" Wanie and Ehsan asked again.
"That was the trick. It was as if we'd eaten or thrown away the food," Mother
replied.

Half an hour later, we could not hear Ehsan moaning in pain again.
"Wow, mom's advice was so effective," I said.
"Our Uwan is like a doctor," teased by her grandchildren.
We smiled to ourselves, whispered and looked at each other.
"Our mother was so great!" said Busu.
That was our Mother, a lot of knowledge and guidance. As the saying goes, people
have been eating salt for a long time.

On the next day, the children gradually returned to their respective homes.
Everyone will start working shortly after.

The phone rang, and Mother picked up the phone.
“Hello…” Mother greeted.
"Hello Mum, it's Mah." There was a faint sound on the line.
“Haa… Mah. What’s wrong? Your voice sounds different.”
"Mother, I had an operation tonight."
“Huh? What operation?
"Appendix," Kak Mah answered briefly.

Kak Mah is indeed an eater. She ate mother’s food with full of appetite yesterday.

“Now look what happened, your belly needs to be cut,” teased Mother. At that
moment, Mother still took the chance to tease Kak Mah.

Now, I'm the one who inherited my mother's cooking talent. I continued the way
she likes to distribute food to her children. I also gave it to my other siblings and
children. That's the memory of my mother's finest cuisine.

GULAI TEMPOYAK DAUN KAYU
Ingredients:
● ½ kilograms of anchovies (peeled)
● 2 bunches of sweet potato shoots (finely sliced)
● 10 pieces of turmeric leaves (finely sliced)
● 3 pieces of mango leaves (finely sliced)
● 2 bundles of lemongrass (finely sliced)
● 1 packet of hot chilli (ground)

Instructions:
1. Blend turmeric root and bird eye chillies.
2. Finely sliced sweet potato shoots. Boil them first, then drain and cool them.
3. Finely sliced turmeric leaves, wild betel shoots, mangun leaves and lemongrass.
4. Put all the ingredients into the pot.
5. Add coconut milk, tempoyak, bitter bean, and prawn. Stir slowly until all ingredients

become wilted and simmer.
6. Finally, add sugar and salt to taste.

What’s Up with Love

Tumisah Akim

"WHAT are you doing, Sah?" Mum asked when she saw me for a moment, smiling and
wiping away tears.

"Can Ummi write about your delicious chicken with ungkep?" I asked as if looking
for permission.

Mum nodded gently as she smiled in her chair. Mum was 87 years old when I
wrote the recipe. While my deceased father had returned to rahmatullah when I was a
child. So, Mum was not just the mother but also a father figure for us.

The ancestral house of my late father became the home for Mum and us, 11
siblings with only three boys. At that time, there were five others who were still studying
in school, Kak Nik, Kak Aisyah, Kak Awi, Ayie and me.

Whilst the other six were already married. Abang Miswan, Kak Nah, Kak As,
Abang Sihap, Kak Tun and Kak Irah. People call Abah as Wak Akim. Mum was better
known by her sweet nickname, Wak Mar.

I am just a village girl who was living in Kampung Batu 2, close to Tanjung Karang
road, near Pasir Penambang. Our house was next to Bernas Factory and FAMA.

Just past two houses after Wak Karim’s house, who was a good friend of Abah
and Abang Juki. In front of our house there were two cute rental houses left by Abah.

Mum was willing to sacrifice to not get married again. She was not sure she
would be able to focus on taking care and raising us well in the future. Deep in the
corner of her heart, I knew she loved Abah very much. I just realised why Mum was so
comfortable living in my modest home for so long compared to her house in the village.

Mum often compared me to Abah. My eyelashes, facial expressions, how I sleep,
from hair to the toe, opps! Never got tired of talking about her husband that she missed.
Maybe by looking at me, Mum could tame/ease her yearning.

When I got number one in the class, Mum would say;

"Sah is like Abah. Clever, sharp -witted."

I was just agreeing with her.

Mum's specialty that we can't forget was Mum's famous ayam masak ungkep.
When I was little, this cuisine was very limited. This was because we can only afford to
eat chicken once a year, which was only on Eid. We celebrate it like there was no
tomorrow for us!

Mum’s chicken with ungkep became a long-awaited food. Can you imagine when
11 siblings gathered to eat? Moreover, the special dish was really delicious to the point
of licking your fingers. In a split second, it was gone like a clean plate together with the
broth. For us, Mum's chicken with ungkep was the tastiest in the world.

In Javanese culture, on the morning of the festival, we will do 'munjung'. A
healthy culture through the practice of giving alms to neighbours with festive food.
Usually a younger family will give first to an older family as a sign of respect. The dish
will be served in a tray. Eventually, the breakfast became plentiful, lively and appetising
like a feast.

"Are there any dishes left?" I asked Kak Aisyah.

"Eat it, there's a little more in the gobok," replied my older sister calmly while
sweeping.

"Yours or Mum’s cooking?" I asked for certainty.

"Of course, it’s Mum’s," answered my sister briefly.

"Liar, Mum’s ungkep tasted different," I said with dissatisfaction.

She suddenly smirked at my reaction.

That's how we were able to differentiate Mum’s ayam masak ungkep and others
cooking. Although we can cook the dish as Mum already taught us, yet we were still
looking for her cuisine because of its unique technique.

Chicken with ungkep is usually eaten with nasi impit (compressed rice) or pulut
panjang (long glutinous rice) that was boiled after being wrapped with coconut leaves.
Pulut panjang needs to be tied neatly at the left, right and middle with a banana stick
rope or raffia rope before being boiled.

"How do you cook this delicious dish?" I felt my mouth watered when I saw my
mum’s ungkep.

"Recite bismillah at the beginning of all our work and keep saying praises to the
Prophet in our heart while cooking." With a smile, my mother shared the tips which
were not included in the recipe book.

These days, Mum’s been very ill. She woke up just to pray and occasionally went
to the small garden in the backyard to feel the breeze.

She only had a little appetite. The only food that she could eat was porridge and
soft food. Mum’s body used to be strong, tall, and buff. Now, had become so thin that you
could see her veins. The flesh didn't seem to want to stick with the bone.

But Mum still told me a lot of stories. She shared her little story during the
Second World War. Sometimes talking about Abah. If shown a picture of him, Mum will
kiss it repeatedly. We just quietly watched Mum’s habits without her realising.

Now most of the time mom rests up by reciting zikir. Alhamdulillah, Mum was
still able to perform ibadah, pray and fasting according to her ability. The most
important thing was the welfare and health of Mum was being taken care of.

Alhamdulillah, all her siblings, grandchildren and great-grandchildren also gave
their support. Sometimes she remembered, sometimes she forgot her own child's name,
we neglected it because we were aware of Mum’s illness.

There were many benefits and skills of life she had that we can't afford to learn.
Mum was very hardworking and health-conscious. Not only adept at cooking chicken
ungkep, but she also makes her own herbs. Her morning routine was to boil tree roots
with water then drink it.

Even the mat, pillows, tempe, Eid cookies, clothes of her husband and child all
made with her own hands. Mum’s always remind us to spend money moderately.

A lot of trees also can be found around the house such as guava, white malay
apple, mango, papaya, jackfruit and rambutan.

There were also vegetables such as yams, eggplant, chillies, and long beans. All of
them were the result of Mum’s farming skills, so we don't have to buy them anymore and
just pick them up when we need them. Even the neighbours came to have a taste and
also can eat them at any time.

So gratified to God’s grace and love. Allah SWT gave huge strength to a woman
who was resilient, strong, cheerful, and highly motivated named mom to carry out this
heavy responsibility. No matter how hard the test, she overcame all of it with the
blessings of love of a mother.

It's great that my mother, who was like a heroine, took care of our safety as well
as pouring out her love that never dries up.

"O God, grant Your heaven to Mum, my beloved heroine. Amen."

WAK MAR’S CHICKEN WITH UNGKEP
Ingredients:
● 1 chicken (simple cut)
● 1 head of garlic (finely pounded)
● 7 red onions (finely pounded)
● 25 chilies (finely pounded)
● 2 inches of turmeric root(finely pounded)
● 2 inches of ginger (finely pounded)
● 2 inches of galangal (pounded)
● 2 stalks of lemongrass (knocked)
● 3 chilies
● 1 cup of tamarind water
● Salt to taste
● Shrimp paste to taste (finely pounded)
Instructions:
1. Heat the pan and add approximately seven tablespoons of oil.
2. Fry the pounded ingredients,lemongrass and salt.
3. Add the chicken and tamarind juice. Stir them well .
4. Cover with a lid until the juice from the chicken comes out and the oil breaks down

on the surface.
5. Add more salt to taste. Add three chillies and leave it uncovered for a while until the

gravy is quite thick.
6. Then, it can be taken out and served.

Wooden Kitchen Iron Shelves

NURNA

"UMI, can you fry the nuggets?" Lutfi asked. I looked back, Lutfi was smirking, waiting
for an answer from me.

That’s the norm when he goes back home for a break on the weekend. Usually in
the hostel, you must accept the only food which has been provided. No choice, no
request!

"Just fry them Acik," my husband allowed. "Kids these days are very lucky." My
husband continued his words before Lutfi could leave the kitchen. Lutfi was stunned to
hear his father’s words.

"When we were younger, we used to be tired of playing in the evenings, so there
weren't many cakes to eat. Eventually we served ourselves with rice, poured boiling
water, then put in some sugar. Mix it, then eat." My husband's story happened like 50
years ago, it was so nostalgic.

"Huh?" He frowned at the story of his father.

"Yes, our life used to be difficult. If good luck on our side, maybe we could eat
corn, cassava or boiled peanuts, "he continued.

"It’s true, Acik, that was our childhood food," I said.

"That was an old story. Go fry the nuggets Cik, so we can have a mouthful once," I
joked and turned off the sad story of our childhood. We were both farmers' children, life
was like breakfast on dinner and dinner on tomorrow!

"Finished!" Acik said as he served a tray containing glasses of tea and a plate of
nuggets.

"Thank you," I said when the tray was put down on the veranda floor, where we
chatted while enjoying the twilight breeze.

After enjoying the meal, each of them left me alone. I cast a distant glance to the end of
the compound. Several geese were seen scratching the leaves of young grass.

Ma’am! Ma’am! Ma’am! My sister-in-law's voice was faintly heard calling my
mother-in-law.

"Where's Mum, Cik?" The question was breathless with exhaustion when he
found out it was only me in the kitchen.

"Mum heads to search for firewood," told me while arranging the dishes and
containers that had been washed on the shelves.

"Where are you from, Rul?" I asked when I saw his red face and sweat dripping
down to his chin.

"Play gasing at Jo's house," he answered concisely. His wild eyes are looking for
something.

"What are you looking for?" raise my question as I reach for the plastic cup that
was stuck on the old iron shelves and then I stretch out for the iron tankard.

"Looking for this?" asked me again while pouring water into a plastic glass.

Yes, "he replied with a smile.

"More, please," he asked while handing an empty glass to me. After consuming his
second glass of water, the voice of my mother-in-law can be heard from below.

"Rul, go take a shower first!" His direction was to Khairul, his youngest son who
was only eight years old at the time. That was my mother -in -law's routine if she had
free time. She would go to Miss Su Nik’s rubber plantation at the back of the house. It
was the place where she searched and replenished supplies of firewood.

"Ma’am, make some porridge." Suddenly Rul spoke as he got up and looked to my
mother-in-law from the crack of the kitchen door.

"Huh, porridge?" Asked my mother -in -law.

Yes, the porridge like you made for that day had some sprinkles, the soup was
thick and sweet, “So clever of him in describing the condition of the porridge.

I smiled at his long explanation. It was as if the porridge was in front of his eyes.

"Ooo… cobek porridge, go take a shower first. I'll make them after prayer." My
mother-in-law's promise to her beloved child from the seven siblings.

After Asar prayers, I saw her quickly go to the kitchen. I couldn’t lend a hand because I’m
still breastfeeding my baby. A moment later I saw smoke billowing out of the kitchen
window.

She must be preparing porridge as promised to Khairul earlier. After a while, I heard the
sound of a shaved squeal. I’d really liked to help but there was nothing I could do while
carrying a child like this, surely there was nothing much to assist.

"Rul! Rul!" My mother-in-law shouted from the kitchen. Maybe she thought the
boy was with me in the house.

"Rul is not here, maybe he go to Jo's house," I guessed. After breastfeeding, I carry
out Naqiuddin and went out to visit my brother-in-law in the yard next door.

"Rul!" I shouted from the top of the house as soon as I saw him was busy
counting rubbers with Jo on the bench nearby the house.

"Get back for a while!" I sounded as if I was scolding. Overhearing my words, he
swiftly ran off home.

"What's wrong, Aunty?" asked Khairul as he got to the stairs of the house.

"Ma’am call, the porridge is probably cooked," I informed. He was grinning when
heard my words then quickly turned to Jo and yell;

"Jo, we'll continue playing tomorrow!" From a distance I saw Jo nod. Khairul
immediately climbed and rushed to the kitchen with a cheerful face as I followed him
from behind. The smell of the porridge walks on my nose.

‘Wow, it smells good,’ my heart said.

After reaching the kitchen, I saw Khairul was eating the porridge with a full
appetite.

"Umi, your phone is ringing!" Suddenly Angah startled me out of reverie. He
surprised me. My phone was still in the room and being charged. I saw a missed call
from my sister. I decided to call her back after Maghrib prayers later.

After the Maghrib prayers, I recited Yasin for both my parents and my
parents-in-law who had passed away.

I recalled the story of cobek porridge and all the advice from my late
mother-in-law, Tengku Maya. She was a gentle person, never raised her voice let alone
hit her children.

A lot of advice and guidance was given to me when I lived with her for a year
before moving into my own home.

Her words of advice are still ringing in my head. That event still lives freshly in
my memory. One morning, I went downstairs to wash the clothes in the bathroom
outside the house. I left Naqiuddin sleeping in the cradle.

"Oh, you’re up!" I said after seeing my son sitting on his grandmother's lap.

"You woke up so early," I continued as I stepped up. "He just woken up," replied
my mother-in-law.

“When I was on the way to take the broom on the sling, I saw the cradle moving.
When I looked, his eyes were open but he didn't cry, "explained my mother-in-law while
patting Naqiuddin’s body gently.

"Children are like this, sometimes they sleep for a long time, sometimes they
sleep as long as the twinkling of an eye only," said my mother-in-law, starting the
conversation. And by the twinkling of an eye, she meant for a very short period of time.

“It was even harder back then. When my children were small, I had to rush to the
riverbank to fetch water, wash clothes and take a shower. Even though I used to live with
my parents-in-law, they never stayed home. They always go out in the early morning to
go to the paddy field and come back home late in the afternoon." She said, reminiscing
about the old times.

“As mothers, we need to divide our time wisely and sacrifice resting time
willingly. When the children are sleeping, we shouldn’t be sleeping either. That's the
time for us to do all the chores." She added.

I will keep all the advice she gave to me tightly. Throughout living as her
daughter-in-law, she has never raised her voice to me for once.

Although our life was never wealthy, we were still happy in our own ways. I am
so grateful because being blessed with a warm-hearted mother-in-law.

COBEK PORRIDGE
Ingredients A:
● 2 cups of all-purpose flour
● 1 cup of water
● A pinch of salt
● 1 tsp of lime water
Ingredients B (for gravy):
● 4 cups of water
● ½ cup of brown sugar (sliced finely)
● 3 spoons of granulated sugar (add more as you wish)
● 2 pandan leaves
● A pinch of salt

Instructions:
1. Mix all ingredients A and blend well. Set it aside.
2. Put all ingredients B into a pot and cook on medium heat.
3. Stir until both brown and granulated sugar dissolved.
4. After boiling, slow down the heat and pinch ingredient A using a spoon or finger

into the gravy.
5. Stir until it is cooked and ready to serve.

Be Patient, Certainly Delicious

Sarinah Mohamed Noordin

THIS fried anchovies with chilli sambal is nothing like your mother’s," said my
father-in-law during lunch at my house.

“Well, it’s Mum. Of course her cooking is unbeatable," I whispered in my heart
while holding back my disappointment.

"The sambal is evenly cooked, very different from what you cooked. The
anchovies are still crispy even though they have been mixed with sambal,” added my
father-in-law while enjoying my mum’s fried anchovies with chilli sambal.

My mother-in-law just remained silent while listening to his comments. Of course
I was a little hurt with the comment but I just admit it.

My in-laws really liked everything that my mum cooked, especially the fried
anchovies with chilli sambal. When I found out that my in-laws would stop by the house
on the way to their daughter's house, I hurriedly asked my mum who, by chance, was
cooking that particular sambal, to cook more for lunch together with my in-laws.

In fact, this menu is also a favourite of our siblings. I am the youngest and have
always helped my mum in the kitchen since I was 11 years old. So, I know that this menu
is often cooked by my mum even though there are other menus available.

Mum said, fried anchovies with chilli sambal is an appetiser. Eaten with warm
rice and soy sauce is enough for mum.

My mum’s name is Zaitun binti Lehan. My grandfather is a Javanese from Klang
and my grandmother's name is Aishah, better known as nyonya from Negeri Sembilan.

Mum's cuisines are heavily influenced by the style of the Javanese people. Her
fried sambal is often praised. Any kind of sambal, especially the fried anchovies with
chilli sambal. Someone may wonder what is the secret to her cooking? Although the
sambal is like a regular sambal, there is something special to it compared to other
sambal.

While my father-in-law was busy praising my mother's food, I watched earnestly
how my mum prepares her food. The ingredients are simple, and don't need a lot of
herbs or spices.

I still remember when I was 11 years old, the first dish I was taught was boiled
mackerel. Mum said this is the easiest dish to cook.

Girls must know how to cook from an early age, indeed. Back then, we used the
kerosene stove, it was a bit difficult and slow in preparing the menu for lunch and
dinner.

Before I knew how to cook, I was taught to operate a kerosene stove. Sometimes I
cook using a wood stove depending on the menu that my mum prepared or if we ran out
of kerosene.

She never complained, I never saw her being sad, even though sometimes she
looked tired, but she still cooked for the family.

I have never seen her cry either. She was very silent. She will only speak when
necessary and show her anger through her small pinches. I get hit often because I was
the most naughty in the family.

When both of us were in the kitchen, there would be stories and questions asked
while cooking. If she is in a good mood, she would tell me a lot of stories about cooking.
But I didn’t bother to listen to all the stories properly.

"When I first married your dad, it wasn’t easy for me to cook. Some of your
grandmother’s relatives used to still wear sari. Curry spice must be homemade. Every
day, I had to grind chilli and spices until my hands felt like being burnt by the chillies. ''
Mum said calmly.

"You were so calm. Were there no ready-made spices? I asked.

"There were, but they weren’t put in packets, like the Adabi brand nowadays.
Your late grandmother loved to grind it herself. People are lucky now, everything is
available, they don't have to bother to grind,” said Mum again.

Some of our favourite menus that Mum will cook on special occasions only were
pineapple pajeri, tempeh, and rendang. Two mandatory dishes that my mother often
cooked are curry and fried anchovies with chilli sambal.

My late dad was from Penang, a mamak. So, it is a must to have curry otherwise,
he will complain until next week. That’s dad. Curry and fried anchovies with chilli
sambal were the must have dishes almost every day. A menu that will not be left behind
if there were no other dishes. Sometimes mum will cook in large quantities, to stock up,
she said.

"The ingredients for fried anchovies with chilli sambal are very easy and
inexpensive. But we have to be patient in controlling the heat and balance the
ingredients to make it delicious,” said Mum.

The chillies should also not be bitter. Bitter chillies will ruin the taste of the
sambal. Mum is good at differentiating between bitter and good chillies. And I don’t
have that skill.

In the kitchen, Mum will prepare all the ingredients and I only help with what my
mum asks.

"Remember, watch how I do this!" the teenager me simply replied, "yes, I’m
looking." But my eyes and mind were somewhere else.

"Later, when I’m gone, you won’t have any trouble cooking this," Mum continued.
Typical old people. Sometimes it makes us feel guilty but that's a way to remind me of
the importance of knowing this hereditary recipe.

When my father-in-law praised this dish, I started to learn and try to make the
fried anchovies with chilli sambal just like my mother’s.

‘Gosh, the same sambal, the same cooking method. Why is it nothing like Mum’s
sambal?’ My little heart complained.

"Mum, tomorrow we make fried anchovies with chilli sambal again, okay?" I said,
trying to persuade her.

"Huh, didn't we just cook two days ago? You don't understand how to do it? I
thought you said it’s easy to make and that you will be able to make it for your
father-in-law.” Mum said sarcastically.

I was speechless. How come I was so ignorant? Now, being regretful won’t do
anything. I have to take it as it is. Now, I will diligently learn new dishes no matter how
easy the menu is.

That evening, I was ready with the ingredients. After the Asar prayer, my mum
was busy running back and forth in the kitchen. I kept waiting for my mum to teach me
how to make the fried anchovies with chilli sambal as promised. Mum smiled at me.

The secret of its deliciousness comes from the patience of controlling the heat,
seasoning and adequate ingredients and also the quality of the selected ingredients. I
present to you, the Mak Ton’s fried anchovies with chilli sambal.

MAK TON’S FRIED ANCHOVIES CHILLI SAMBAL
Ingredients:
● 10 green chillies (blended)
● A handful or 30 hot peppers (depending on how

hot you want and blend)
● 10 small red onions (blended)
● A handful of anchovies
● Oil to fry
● Salt, MSG and sugar

Instructions:
1. Fry the anchovies until crispy and set aside.
2. Fry the blended ingredients on medium heat until crunchy.
3. Add enough seasoning, salt and sugar.
4. Turn off the heat and let it cool down before putting in the fried anchovies.

Notes: Use low heat and stir constantly so that it won’t burn. You may add sliced onion if
you wish to.

Galangal Oh Galangal

Junidah Mat Zini

GULAI ayam was our special dish for the whole family during the early 70's. Free-range
chickens are bred to eat and sold when we need money, such as at the beginning of the
year when new school sessions started.

One of the sweetest memories of our siblings is when we needed to catch some
chickens during Ramadan to be slaughtered and cooked as a stew in the morning.
Usually, Mum will sprinkle coconut husk to call the chickens to gather.

Abang Mat will use a hen-coop to catch chickens that have been marked for
slaughter. When the chicken enters the coop, Abang Din will hold its leg. Usually we
would catch two chickens to slaughter. The second chicken is quite difficult to catch
because it will run away after seeing a chicken has been caught.

The chasing and besieging between us siblings became even more intense. Kak
Gayah and I held hands and drove the chicken towards Abang Mat who was holding a
hen-coop. Once trapped, Abang Din will catch and tie the chicken's legs with a rope.
Abang Mat holds the chicken and Abang Din slaughters it with the word bismillah.

After the two chickens are slaughtered, Mum prepares hot water to slaughter the
chickens. Roasting the chicken makes it easier to pluck the feathers. Kak Gayah and I will
pull out the chicken feathers.

In order to remove fine feathers, the chicken will be roasted on embers. After
being roasted for a while, the chicken will be cut to medium size for easy cooking.

Our house is full of galangal trees or lengkuas. My mum would always grind two
inches long of galangal along with ginger, turmeric, shallots and garlic every time she
cooks gulai ayam. Sauteed galangal is fragrant. Mum said, galangal makes the gulai
sweet and not stale easily.

For Eid breakfast, Mum usually will cook gulai ayam lengkuas after the Isha
prayer on the last day of fasting so that it is not eaten during breaking fast.

However, when the fishermen saw the crescent moon, the Perak state celebrated
Eid a day earlier than other states in Malaysia. Due to that event, Mum would cook that
dish in the evening before breaking fast to avoid chaos.

I still remember in the middle of Ramadan, the last day of fasting in 1983, the
villagers were startled by the sound of an announcement from an information van
through a loudspeaker stating that the crescent moon of Syawal had been seen in
several places including Sabang Island that is located at Perak River.

The Sultan of Perak announced that the Muslim population of Perak would
celebrate Hari Raya Aidilfitri on the 5th day. It was so chaotic for my Mum to cook gulai
ayam lengkuas with pulut kuning, pulut pasung and nasi impit.

We were stunned and shocked, we thought we were getting up for sahur because
the Keeper of the Ruler’s Seal had stated that the crescent moon of Syawal was not seen
before.

Pulut kuning is the main dish during Eid. Apart from Eid, Mum would only cook
pulut kuning and gulai ayam lengkuas if any of the siblings show any progress in the
study of the Quran. I had successfully completed my muqaddam studies and started
learning to read the Quran when I was eight years old.

That morning after the dawn prayers, it was still dark when my mum caught a
chicken in the coop to be slaughtered by my father. She straight away became busy
cooking pulut kuning and gulai ayam lengkuas to be brought to the teacher's house in
the evening. Over there, I will enjoy the dishes with my friends.

"Kak Gayah come, we bring this yellow curry and glutinous rice to Tok Esah to eat
after this maghrib," I said to Kak Gayah.

When we arrived at Tok Esah's house, we came across Aspa, the son of Cikgu
Desa who also recited there.

"Ooo ... Jun has progressed to the Quran?" asked Aspa.

"Yes, mum made pulut kuning to show our gratitude, let’s enjoy it together later," I
replied cheerfully. That is one of the sweet memories that always makes me smile alone
whenever I’m reminiscing on my childhood.

Mum is always concerned with the progress of my Quran studies. She would cook
pulut kuning every time I managed to finish 10 components of the Quran as a reward
and encouragement to study more diligently. That was how I finished studying the
Quran.

Before I went to the United States of America to further my studies, Mum told me
to send pulut kuning and gulai ayam lengkuas to Tok Esah's house, to ask for her
blessings so that my journey and studies would be easier.

Gulai ayam lengkuas is always there to welcome me back to the village even when
my mum doesn't breed chickens anymore.

Mum said, gulai ayam lengkuas is sweet with lots of gravy. If she makes rendang
instead of curry, it won’t be enough for a family with many members. Apparently that is
the secret why she makes chicken curry instead of rendang or chicken opor.

My family is already large, not including my many relatives who will come to visit
us during Eid. gulai ayam lengkuas, pulut kuning, glutinous rice and dodol are their
favourite dishes.

Whenever my mum came to Kuala Lumpur to visit me, she would bring gulai
ayam lengkuas. She even planted galangal, lemongrass, turmeric and pandan leaves on
my lawn so that it will be easy to cook, she said.

The galangal plant is so beneficial. Boiled galangal plant and lemongrass water is
good to be used as a bathing water for women during confinement.

In addition, galangal leaves along with noni leaves can be made as a traditional
wrapping for the hot compress for women during confinement. They are also good to
expel wind from the body and provides freshness after childbirth.

Galangal and lemongrass plants grew very well in the backyard of my house.
They can be seen clearly while washing dishes through the kitchen window. Sometimes,
I will recall the image of my mum digging the galangal roots or pruning its leaves to be
boiled.

Near the galangal clump, my grandchildren's placentas were buried. Now it’s my
turn to prune the galangal leaves to be used as bathing water for my daughter during
her confinement.

Gulai ayam lengkuas has also become my family’s heritage recipe. My kids love
this dish. I will pass down the recipe and benefits of the galangal plant to my children so
that this useful knowledge will not disappear.

Memories with Mum are embedded in my mind. Al-Fatihah Mum, Hajah
Aishah@Fatimah Haji Tamin.

YELLOW GLUTINOUS RICE AND CHICKEN GULAI WITH GALANGAL
Ingredients for yellow glutinous rice:
● 400 grams of glutinous rice
● 2 inch of fresh turmeric or 1 tablespoon of

turmeric powder
● A bowl of concentrated coconut milk and

1 box of coconut milk
● A tsp of salt
● 3 pandan leaves

Instructions:
1. Wash the glutinous rice and pour four cups of water.
2. Put in the turmeric and stir. Soak for three hours, strain and then drain.
3. Put the glutinous rice in the coconut milk and lay the pandan leaves on the steamer.
4. Steam for 20 minutes.
5. Mix the concentrated coconut milk together with the glutinous rice. Steam again for

10 minutes.
6. Put the glutinous rice in a baking pan and compact it following the shape of the

baking pan.

Ingredients for gulai ayam lengkuas:
● 1 medium large chicken
● 5 red onions (blended)
● 7 cloves garlic (blended)
● 1 inch of ginger (blended)
● 2 inches of galangal (blended)

● 2 tablespoons of oil (for frying)
● A sprig of curry leaves
● 1 bowl or 7 tablespoons of chicken curry spices
● 2 tablespoons of turmeric
● Salt
● 2 concentrated coconut milk and 1 box of coconut milk
● 3 potatoes (cut into 6 parts)

Instructions:
1. The chicken is cleaned then cut into medium pieces. Marinate with salt, turmeric

and curry spices.
2. Prepare a pot and add oil for frying.
3. Pour the blended ingredients together with curry into the pot. Stir until golden

brown and fragrant.
4. Add curry spices that have been mixed with hot water. Stir until the oil is released.
5. Add the chicken and medium-cut potatoes. Add coconut milk and stir until boiling.

Rendang Ayam Berempah Aunt 35

Ida Mulyani Idris

“ALONG!”

"Long ... mother called you,” said Elin, my little sister. I squirmed while lying in
front of the television.

“What?” I asked lazily.

"Mother called you," Elin repeated once more. I grunted while getting up.

"Let's go to the kitchen. Stop skiving off, ”I directed at Elin while rolling my eyes.

I have to use my privilege as the eldest sister. My younger sisters called me
‘Along Singa Betina’ which means that I’m a fierce sister just like a lioness. I turned off
the television. So what if they cannot watch their favorite shows.

"Oi, you did it on purpose. Envy! "Elin is angry. She turned on the television and
switched to her favourite show.

Usually when I'm holding a television remote, it's going to be hard for my siblings
to watch their favourite shows. It’s almost like ‘first come first serve'.

“What are you girls doing? I’m tired of calling you to help me here. Every time I
want to cook, I have to scream into the kitchen. "Mother is angry.

"Elin!" Mom called Elin. Elin hurriedly turned the television off and both of us
went to the kitchen together.

"Ha ... Lin, cook three pots of rice," my mother said to Elin. Elin didn't say
anything and just obeyed. That's my sister's attitude. She rarely talks back, unlike me.

"Girls have to be diligent in the kitchen. Otherwise, you won’t be able to cook and
feed your husbands when you are married in the future.”

That's what we will always hear whenever we help my mother in the kitchen.
Mother will complain if we are late to help her cook. That’s when she will start with her
long advice.